


Nightmares Nowhere Never

by just_patches



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Gen, Ghosts, Horror, My First Work in This Fandom, Mystery, Near Death Experiences, Out of Body Experiences, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-08-14 06:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_patches/pseuds/just_patches
Summary: Synchronicity: A pair of events that coincide but have no discernible connection or reason. Described as a "meaningful coincidence."Once a week, within the small town of November, a town locked in a perpetual sunset, cut off from the rest of the world by a small bridge and tunnel. A town where Synchronicity occurs. The night when the world of the dead and the world of the living merge as one. Citizens are kept in doors as the spirits of the deceased wander the streets.Meanwhile, a young girl locked in a vegetative state is able to leave her body on such nights, a young woman seeks to find the angel of the town, and a pair of men explore the town to seek all kinds of thrills.In their heads, they remember the creed of the town: The Guardian Angel Watches Over Us.





	1. Act of Flesh Prologue: Slave Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is a story I've been working on since January. It has been slow due to personal laziness and procrastination. Most of the story is already planned out. As of writing this on midnight of August 10th, the first act is complete along with most of the second act are complete. Once I actually start posting, progress will definitely speed up. I hope that everyone enjoys this.  
This first part is referred to as Act of Flesh due to it focusing more on the human world rather than the supernatural. It's shorter and a bit odder due to its age compared to more recent chapters.

Oh Broken Slave

Oh Arisen King

Sit Upon Your Wooden Throne

Bow Our Heads

Call the Angel

Halt the Sun

Smite the Wicked

Lower the Veil

The Town is Your Kingdom

The Town is Our Home

A Treason

A Treasure

A Trial

Oh Broken Slave

Oh Arisen King

Sit Upon Your Wooden Throne

Let Us Sing Your Praises

Share In Your Pain

Forever

Forever

Forever

Until the Sun Stands Still in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less the first chapter and more of a prologue. Each of the individual acts will start out with an unorthodox poem. What they mean will be revealed in the future.


	2. Act of Flesh: Drowning Dream

It was a dream that she had night after night. Starting off as hurling through a dark and empty void, unrestrained. Then the image became clearer and clear, the world forming around her. The interior of a car with beige seats and the roof light still on. Then, the outside would form. Street lights followed by the rain pouring outside, raindrops moving along the window. She would often try to place her finger on a lonely raindrop to follow it, as if she were racing it neck and neck. There is always a man in the driver’s seat, who drove her to a destination that the dream never made it to. “Who is this man?” She would always think to herself, unable to see his face. “Who are you?” She always tried to ask, but could never speak the words. No matter how hard she tired to get an answer, the dream would end the same way as it always did.

Abruptly.

From a car on a rainy day, to a cold sterile hospital room. A sunset shined through her window which gave it a crisp orange color. A tube in her nose, a tube in her arm, breathing and eating performed for her. As if on reflex or a force of habit, she would always attempt to arise from the bed and get ready for the day, only to be halted by her body’s refusal to move. With her heart beating softly, coming down from the initial panic of her dream, it told her that she was still alive. She would blink her eyes a few times and tap her fingers, just to make sure those movements still belonged to her, the only ones yet to be taken from her.

Looks like she did.

It was then a nurse walked in, a kind, rotund woman clad in white whose name tag read Ilsa, who came to replace the small glass vase of flowers on the counter; the current wilted ones being replaced by a bundle of fresh, healthy ones. Still waking up, the young girl could barely hear Ilsa’s greeting of, “Rest well, dear?” She said, as she flicked on the radio next to the young girl’s bed.

The device came on in the middle of a song, a generic jingle put on to fill time between broadcasts. The man on the other end was a man with a slight Southern accent, starting out the broadcast with his usual self established catchphrase of “Good Morning, Town of November. Another day, another story.” The young girl didn’t much care for it. An adult story told by an adult man she didn’t know. She silently hoped that the nurse would turn on the CRT TV near her bed.

With the flowers replaced, the nurse was ready to leave, as she threw away the old wilted ones. It was then she looked at the young girl. “Do you want to look out the window, tonight, April?” She asked, steadily turning the young girl, April’s, head to look out the window to gaze upon the sunset orange township. The second floor provided a good view of everything. “There we go!” The nurse said in her usual tone; a biting tone for April. She was but a child, barely in her teens, but even someone as young as her would find the nurse’s condescending tone just a bit insulting, whether or not the nurse was aware of how the tone came off as.

The radio went on and on, the man on the other end talked about the new restaurant opening on the corner of Cyl Street or about how the local repair man saved a dog from drowning in the community pool. Upbeat and unwavering, as the only radio station in the town of November coupled with him being the host for “morning” broadcasts, such an optimistic attitude was almost required.

To all his listeners, going about their day, this was their normal. To the immobile April, trapped in her own body as of almost a week, this was her now her normal.

Then, the tail end of the broadcast, gave the words that everyone in town was afraid to hear. Momentarily, the broadcaster broke character, to speak in a more serious, almost foreboding tone. “So, uh… Tonight is going to be another Synchronicity Event, yeah. Remember to stay indoors and let your pets in, as always. If you’re far from home, find someone else. As usual, I’ll remind you: They can’t get in without an invitation. Due to unpredictable events last week, curfew will start 30 minutes early this time. Other than that, enjoy the rest of your day. Citizens of November, young, old, man, woman, stay safe and stay brave. The Guardian Angel Watches Over Us.”

Without missing a beat, the morning broadcaster gave a few last goodbyes and a couple special thanks end of his broadcast, he gave a few last minute goodbyes and special thanks before he would switch places with the afternoon broadcaster. Every day since she was put here, April always hoped that she just might me mentioned by some off chance. That the people of the orange burnt town just might hear and know about her condition.

Outside her window and from beyond her room, her ears still working, April could hear the commotion of people already panicking over the Event. The once a week event, exclusive to those trapped in the Town of November.

The Synchronicity Event

The night that the world of spirits merged with the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our protag, a young girl named April. April and the scenario of the story was inspired by a dream I had in which a comatose child could predict when our world and the ghostly world would cross over.  
Originally her name was Ada, so if you see that name pop up, it means that it slipped past editing. That or it refers to her last name.


	3. Act of Flesh: Spirit Split

The day went by. Thankfully, she had the TV to pass the time. None of her favorite shows came on, but it was better than staring off into the distance. But, once the day had wind down, the television was turned off, leaving April to do nothing but watch her mother argue with a man neither of them recognized.

“She won’t be safe during the Event! I can’t leave her here.” The strict looking, woman in glasses said. April’s mother, Mrs. Ada, none around town for being short in temper and tall in stature. Standing in the doorway, she continued to argue with a nervous looking intern, who from what April learned by eavesdropping, was only there to take notes.

“You can’t take her home. Those are the rules.” The young man said, waving his hands in front of him defensively, as if casting a defensive spell to protect himself from the woman’s harsh words. Said attempt, did nothing to defuse the situation, so he brought out his trump card when it came to these situations: “You may visit her tomor-”

“Tomorrow?!” The angry mother said, furrowing her brow, cutting the man’s words off. The situation escalating, she opened her mouth to speak up, so she could continue to verbally eviscerate the poor intern. But her words were halted by a sound outside. Quiet at first, but soon it rose into an intimidating tone that was heard throughout the small town’s streets. A siren that blared on the speakers on each street corner, all accompanied by a loud artificial voice, not loud enough to hurt the ears, but loud enough to demand everyone’s attention.

Citizens of November.  This is the first warming of the impending Synchronicity Event. The  mandatory curfew will begin in 30 minutes. Return to  or stay in your homes. If you  are unable to get to your home in the next 30 minutes,  seek any form of enclosed shelter. 

Mrs. A d a bowed her head,  with a quiet huff as she came down from her outburst. The intern rubbed the back of his neck  and looked to April, the catatonic young girl who had witnessed the whole argument. A rather defeated expression  crossed on his face.  After hearing the alert so many times, once a week,  Ada, her mother, and the intern  had it memorized.

Citizens are required to house anybody who comes to their home.  Anything that happens to those outside during this time is not the responsibility of  the  C ity  C ouncil .  The Guardian Angel watches over us.

Meanwhile, April could only feel a contradictory cross between indifference and worry. Before, the Synchronicity Events weren’t an issue to her. She was but a child, so staying indoors at night was normal, she was the adventurous type, but her mother scared her enough that she would never risk going out at night, especially on nights such as these. However, this time was different. The first time experiencing one of the events in her current state. Asking herself things like whether or not it’ll make things better or worse. Asking if her mother will be there, whether or not she could do anything. Asking herself simpler questions like if the Event will somehow hurt her when it shifts.

A mix of r ational  and irrational questions from a frightened mind.

With a sigh,  April ’s mother adjusted her glasses and looked to her daughter, then to the intern.  Being such a small town, everything and everyone in November was just a short walk away from one another. The amount of people who drove were far and few.  That being said, there was no way to get both herself and her daughter home in a mere 30 minutes. Even if she could convince the hospital to let her take April home.

“ I will stay here for the night.” She said as she walked into the room, as she gave the intern a light shove.  April was always told she inherited this  rough and headstrong  side of her mother. Personally, she didn’t see it.  “ I can’t leave during the Event. You’re required by the Council to let me stay, aren’t you? ”  She said, as she raised a brow.

While it was a lot more complicated than that, the intern knew when to fold. In a sense, she was right; the hospital did indeed count as a form of enclosed shelter. “I’ll talk to the head doctor about it. But it should be fine.” He said that, although in actuality he planned to go straight home without even looking at the head doctor. “It should be fine. As the curfew says, if you can’t make it home in time, you may take shelter wherever it is necessary.” With a hesitant motion, the intern left, clearly not wanting to be chewed out by this woman any longer.

Nevertheless, Mrs.  Ada planned to talk to the doctor later anyways…  She knew for certain that she could stay here, but it was b etter to trust his word on it. It wouldn’t be the first time she stayed in a place that wasn’t her home.  First time was at a fast food restaurant,  this was before April was born. T he smell of grease and the sound of crying children didn’t set a good precedent. Another time having to stay at her brother in law’s house.  Rest his soul.  Taking out her phone to alert her husband on the change in plans, she sighed  and took a seat  next to  April , her eyes were on her the whole time.  _“Such a fragile thing…” _ She thought to herse lf, as she waited for  her husband to answer the call.

April didn’t  pay to o much attention to  their phone call, but understood what it was about. On one hand, she was grateful that her mother would bother to stay behind,  even if it wasn’t entirely by choice .  On the other hand,  she couldn’t let go of the feeling of uselessness  that stemmed from the concern .

It was as if s he didn’t want to listen to the phone call, but didn’t want to pay attention to anything else.  A s e ach word from both her mother and the vague sounds of her father on the other end,  kept  her attention.  April searched for some c onfirmation that they didn’t think she was worthless in her  current  state.

A confirmation that she still had value to them.

Such thoughts that didn’t belong in the head of a girl who was barely out of grade school.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Ada got up and started heading over to the window and opened it up in a tired motion. Completely still, she stayed staring out at the night sky of November, now turned from its usual pinks and oranges to blue and black. Her long black hair flowed in the small breeze that flowed in. It wouldn’t be long until she had to close it; she couldn’t risk letting any of the oncoming spirits inside.

With things finally calming down, April let herself be at peace for now. There was no point in taking on the next day stressed out and sleepless. As she drifted off, she hoped she would have her usual dream. This time, she hoped that she just might be able to catch a glimpse of the face of the man in the driver’s seat. Her young mind yearned to learn the mystery behind the recurring dream; if it happens again and again, after all, it has to be happening for a reason, she told herself each time she had it.

Yet, this night was different. This time, there was no car nor a mysterious man in the driver’s seat that April couldn’t see the face of. There was no long rainy road that she couldn’t get to the end of. There was no abrupt end where she would wake up in the morning.

Nor was there a dream at all.

April found herself on the sterile white floor of the hospital, standing on her own two feet. But were they her own feet, she wondered, when she saw the thing in front of her. There still in bed was her own body, still lying in bed, tubes in its arm and face. In a literal sense, she was looking at herself, outside of her own body, wide eyed, and shaking, April held her arm up in front of her face… _She was moving. _Not even a sign of weakness or needing any form of assistance. No machines or tubes put into her to keep her from passing away, clad in only her hospital gown. With great hesitation, she approached her own body, it appeared she could still walk; with each step across the hospital floor, she felt her body oddly light, as if she was back to her own birth weight.

Would touching her body put herself back into it? Did she even want to go back into her own body and go back to being unable to move? Slowly, she reached out to touch her body’s face… But then, she paused, when her eye caught something standing at the window.

A humanoid figure, possessing a lanky appearance, almost as tall as her father. Its body was long and thin, although possessed a rather bloated stomach, covered in a pale blue skin like the flesh of a drowned corpse. April sound herself frozen in place as she stared at the figure at the window, both of them so still that they looked like statues… Ghosts were normal during the Events, yet she hadn’t seen one so close. As it pressed itself against the window, its appearance became clearer. Even its clothes looked waterlogged, to match its soggy swollen skin. April couldn’t see its face, as it was covered by a burlap sack, with a pair of large circles drawn on it to resemble eyes.

With a long black nail, it pointed at the lock on the window, tapping it.

“Let me in.” It said in a raspy, but polite voice.

As April watched the ghost, she looked to the corner where her mother was sleep. If a spirit’s heart could beat, hers would be racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are a bit "Eh..." in my mind.  
These were made months ago and much has changed about the tone of the story and even the characters. I still have no plans for April's mother but maybe she'll show up in the future. It's hard to write a character who is so stuck in a position, that it's a lot more exciting to finally get to have them move about.  
If the description of the ghost sounds familiar, that's because it was inspired by the horror manga Fuan no Tane.


	4. Act of Flesh: Ghost Greeting

With her mom sleeping in a chair the corner of the room, April was now without any adult help. Either the sleeping woman couldn’t perceive the ghost or she was just that much of a heavy sleeper, Either way, April didn’t bother to scream or yell for help, she didn’t even know if her mother would be able to hear her. Instead, she slowly walked over to the window, to get a better look at the uninvited guest, his body illuminated by the moonlight.

All the while, the burlap clad ghost tapped its finger on the windowsill in a repetitive, but consistent way, as if he was tapping along to the beat of a song that only he could hear. The thin glass barrier was all that kept the two apart. A part curious and part paranoid thought prodded at the back of her skull: just what would happen if she were to open the window? The thought would continue to go unanswered, instead she had to keep telling herself to not open it up; she recited it again, once for good measure, like it was some sort of protective mantra.

As April made no attempt to open up the window, the spirit in turn made no attempt to smash the window or force its way in, only continuing to tap his finger on the window sill over and over again. Maybe the stories about them needing to be invited to enter a house were true and the window truly was the best barrier she had.

After an uncomfortably long gap of silence between the two just staring at each other, the ghost finally spoke up and broke the standstill. His voice was now clearer, just a little bit raspy and peppered with frequent pauses, but carried the same polite tone as earlier. “It was 50 years ago today… Or was it yesterday. My body. Discovered upside down in a well. My face, bludgeoned with a heavy object. One week later it was publicly announced that I had committed suicide… By drowning.” The ghost pressed its face against the window, the sodden cloth on his face even left a wet mark on the glass. “What happened that day? Do you wonder?”

The young girl held a finger up, about to respond to the strange story, just why he had given his life’s story out of the blue like that… Or was it his death’s story in this case. Slowly, the burlap clad ghost pointed a swollen finger at the empty shell that was April’s body, tracing it back to April’s spirit standing outside of it. “Like us… But not dead… Like us, those of us on the outside.” It then tilted its head like a curious dog.

April wouldn’t answer him. She would just have to keep the window closed until sunrise. Silently, she told herself that she didn’t need her mother’s help for this, that she was on her own here… That she was strong enough to handle this on her own. So she sat down at the edge of the bed across from the window, staying there with a neutral expression on her face, refusing to show any sign of fear to her uninvited guest, as polite as he was. The fact that she would sit down made her wonder just how tangible she was. Could she still hold things or touch others?

It was best that she didn’t get distracted right now.

Her plan was working so far, as the two of them didn’t break eye contact; if the ghost even had eyes underneath the mask.

Maybe she did have a bit of her mother’s stubborn bravery in her after all. If only she knew how long it was til morning, nor did she know how much time had passed since she had left her body. Would she talk to the people in the hospital about her condition? Would they even understand, as if this was a thing that had happened before. Could she even talk to them as a spirit? For now she couldn’t take her eyes off the waterlogged spirit.

Behind him, outside in the streets and the alleys of the small town, the spirits roamed the streets. Only the brave, unlucky, or foolish residents of the town would be out at this time, a few would even look out their window to get a view of the town’s regular haunts. Such as the ghost child who stayed at the center of the town, crying into their knees. The dancing couple who were clad in viscera. There was the giant creature who flew around in the sky, reminiscent of a manta ray, casting a shadow above all else. April could see it pass by in the distance; with its colossal size, it could be seen no matter where were you were. There were the many faceless, miscellaneous spirits, who lacked any distinguishable features; they walked in large groups, from a couple dozen to a mere 5 or 6. As for what they were, April was always told that those who had neither a bad or a good reputation in life would go on to join the crowd of faceless, nameless ghosts. _Your reputation decides what you’ll look like after death,_ the more suspicious members of the city would always say, some of them fearing that they just might join them. _The beautiful ones were good people, while the ugly ones were __evil__ people. _Her mother told her a few years ago, quick to join in on the suspicious notions of the older folks of the town. Not one to ask questions when she was younger, she could only silently wonder what someone could have done to look like a stingray after death. Was it ugly or beautiful? Was it wrong that she found a strange beauty in its graceful, movements?

With the weightless feeling still in her, she stood up and walked to the window. The ghost hadn’t given up, with the patience of a lifetime, he still insisted on wanting to be let in. But, in an attempt to communicate with him, April spoke up, only to choke on her first words. She was more successful on her second attempt. “What is your name?” She said, starting off with a simple question that anybody could answer.

The ghost responded quickly, replying with a tone more akin to someone asking him if he has the time or he knows what day it is. “I do not have a name… Forgotten it.” He said, sliding sideways against the window, until his body was tilted at a 45 degree angle. “What would you call me?” He asked, his question genuine, as if expecting an immediate answer.

But, nothing but plain names came to April’s mind. She didn’t feel all too comfortable with giving a name to someone who already had one. Neither did she want to refer to such a bizarre ghost with a casual name like Jeff or Bob. As she was still in thought, she was snapped to attention by the ghost, who asked her another question; this time, returning the starting question back to April.

“What is your name?” He asked, as he stood up straight from his earlier, odd position.

This time, April wasn’t too hesitant to give an answer; she already asked him a question, she was strong enough to answer a question of his. Might as well do it to pass the time anyways. There was nothing he could do to you by you giving him your name, he’ll be gone in the morning anyways, she told herself. So, with confidence breathed into her, she answered “April.”

To which, the ghost lowered his hands from the glass, backing away from it. “I knew it… You look like an April.” He said, staring at her short messy hair. “April lives in November…” He mumbled to himself, before repeating this with a loud, hoarse tone, “April in November! Hahahaha!” He said, bursting out in laughter, causing April to leap back, to her bedside, the confidence in her drained out as quick as it was given. Even as the ghost laughed more and more, her mother still remained asleep… Could her mother not hear this? April could only wait for the ghost to calm down.

In all honesty, she wanted to tell him that she’s heard that joke a hundred times by now, but didn’t want to bring it up again.

The ghost huffed from his laughter, only to speak in a normal, deadpan town, completely calm his sudden swaps in emotion gave April whiplash. “You should join us. You are not like those on the inside. You’re like us.”

There was no response from April. She wouldn’t go outside… Not when it was this creature suggesting it.

“Think about it…” The ghost said, “Walk… Explore… Move as children do. Just as you did weeks ago. Before the river… Before the car.” He said, before immediately going silent once more. Everything else he had said was nonexistent to April. Those final words were all she heard. Car and river. “April lives in November… Among us… On the outside.” The ghost said, before descending to the ground below, without a sound, as if he was never there.

“Wait!” April shouted, standing up, moving over to the window. But it was too late. The ghost was gone, leaving her with more questions than answers. April’s mother murmured in her sleep, before dozing off once more. April rubbed her arm and looked at the town outside the window. Everyone in their houses, away from the ghosts and the otherworldly beings, did they ever experience the same thing she experienced tonight? Most of them were safely unaware, safe in their homes, protected from the spirits and the monsters of the night. Tomorrow, they would all go back to their normal lives, as if this night never happened.

The shining orange orb in the sky began to form. Not a rising sun or a sunrise in the distance. But an orange dot forming in the sky, to purge the night away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a bit proud of the creepiness of the ghost. I think I could improve on April's part though. Over all, this part is basically a litmus test to the other freaky stuff that goes on in the later acts.


	5. Act of Flesh: Country Crawl

A body was found in the morning.

It wasn’t the first time that such a thing had happened, the people of November knew the dangers of being outside during an Event. But first time or not, it still jarring to find someone dead in the streets once the sun appeared.

Rumors were already being spun about who he was and why he was out at night, questions about where was his family and how were they reacting. Was he just a drunk who didn’t know that there was an Event happening and wandered around without a care until it was too late. Was he homeless? Most likely not, most people concluded: He didn’t look homeless, even if he did, people were required to provide people with shelter if they have none. Perhaps he was kicked out of his house by a crazy ex or a family that had disowned him, others suggested. Regardless of the truth, there would be a brief period of mourning and a mixture of sorrow and apathy, they had to move on; to hope that it doesn’t happen next week.

Buying himself a candy bar, a bottle of water, and some deodorant, a young man listened to the news on the radio, a bit curious himself. This store, that radio, felt more and more nostalgic each day, having listened to it every time he came here since he was a kid, not even changing broadcasters. With the morning broadcast finishing, it gave the same finishing message, “The Guardian Angel Watches Over Us,” before it would move on to things such as talk shows and music. The young man’s name: Jules.

Things looked like they were adjusting back to normal, at least that was what first places of the streets told him. A few people were chatting, others were working, there were even parents taking their friends and children out shopping. Through his eavesdropping while passing through the sunset shining town, he didn’t hear one mention of the death or last night’s Event. But, not quite wanting to be around too many people anyways, Jules took a shortcut; one that he had memorized. An alleyway between the houses, often hosting nothing but the occasional stray cat. The silence helped him clear his mind, finding peace in the solitude. But, before he could find complete peace, the silence was interrupted. Quiet, but noticeable in the complete silence of the alley. The strum of a guitar. Jules found himself a bit confused: Of all places, the filthy alley didn’t seem like the best place for practice, as trash didn’t exactly make good acoustic padding.

There, behind a gray and black trash bin, camouflaged thanks to her gray and black jacket and shorts, was a young girl. Her soft, youthful, features and average height, similar to Jules, lead him to assume that they were around the same age; so around the mid 20s range. Paying no attention to Jules, the woman strummed along to her song, singing slow at first as if to get a feel for the song.

“…I said if I was smart, I’d save up for a piece of string… and a rock to tie the string around. Everybody wants a rock to tie a string around…” Unaware of Jules’ presence, she laughed to herself, shaking her head, before continuing to tune her guitar as she played the bizarre song. Torn shorts, a jacket made of faux leather, and a dingy hat all giving her a scrappy appearance. But in the only opinion that mattered to Jules, his own, it was a breath of fresh air for the eyes, an almost rebellious style compared to the more conformist styles of the townsfolk. Even Jules possessed a more down to earth and boring fashion sense of a button up shirt and pants, that could only be described as the textbook definition of bland. That’s about all Jules would gather before heading home, if not for the girl looking up from her guitar, instigating a conversation.

“Another night another morning, eh?” She said, a phrase to give a fresh spin on the term good morning, her voice full of energy. “See any spirits last night?”

In response, Jules only stood there, staring at her, searching for something to say. It was then, however, that he recognized her. The two of them had never talked before or even met face to face, but he knew that he had seen her around town before. Mostly down by the bridge leading out of town, playing her guitar. But, once he gained his clarity, he answered with a truth and a lie respectively, “Nope. I slept through the night.”

Not the best liar, his sleep deprived tone gave him away. The young girl pushed off of the wall and shrugged, slinging her guitar over her shoulder with a wide grin on her face, “A darn shame. Can’t all be lucky. I was lucky enough to see her last night.” Then, without any further explanation, she began to walk off towards the exit of the alley, the same direction that Jules was going, she walked with a rhythmic saw to her step, as if walking to the beat of a music that only she could hear. Practically a dance compared to Jules’ own slow methodical walk; he couldn’t process why someone could have so much energy in the early morning, until he realized that his morning was everyone else’s afternoon. But, they were going in the same direction, so it felt like proper etiquette to at least talk to her a bit. Starting off with a simple question.

“So, hey, you like music, don’t you?” He said, his eyes on her guitar, now strapped to her back like a soldier’s rifle.

In response, the girl swiveled around on her foot to face Jules, now walking backwards, all without missing a beat in the conversation or paying attention to what was behind her for that matter, even as the pair came onto the sidewalk where others would be walking. “Damn right I do, glad you noticed!” She said, parting her jacket to show him her shirt; four faces, smudged with red, the words Talking Heads right above them. “Music is my body, mind, and soul. People call me June… Or Junebug if we’re personal.” She said, introducing herself in a most energetic manner.

Nodding, Jules replied with his own name, “Jules… And I’m not big on music. I listen to the radio mostly.”

“Boo… CDs and cassettes are the way to go.” She said, actually sounding annoyed; Jules being unable to figure out if she was playing it up or she was actually offended by a casual radio listener like him.

For someone who was walking backwards, she had a great sense of direction and a rather uncanny intuition, walking past the occasional bystander, stepping out of the way before they were too close, especially when moving at the same forward pace of Jules. “You’re weird.” She said with a curious smile, idly adjusting her hat, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were following me. Are you going down to the bridge as well? I go down there to practice.”

“Not really,” Jules said, quick in response. “I was just heading home.” The bridge that lead out of town wasn’t the biggest hot spot for gathering. Made sense why a musician would like to go there.

“Yet you still follow me?” She said, her smile suddenly disappearing, stopping her backwards stride for a moment, “You really are a curious one.”

Curiosity was a contributor… He wondered if it was a good enough excuse to be following this girl he just met? Not sure how to answer, he questioned what she said earlier, “Who’s did you see last night?”

To which June looked at him confused as if she was just spouting nonsense, as if forgetting what she said just moments earlier. But, confusion quickly turned into realization, “Ah! Her… You want to know don’t you?” Moving once again, this time at a faster pace, she motioned to Jules, “Come on, I’ll tell you down at the bridge! It’s better there!”

Just like that, the strange guitar playing guitar was running, forward this time, towards the direction of the bridge that lead out of town.

Here is where most meetings would normally end and Jules would take his things and go home. He considered himself reasonably cautious, having the knowledge to not go into shady situations or fall for tricks and scams; especially knew not to follow someone he just met down to one of the most vacant areas of the town. Either due to a lapse in his judgment or some sort of yearning curiosity, this wasn’t one of those moments. So, the boy who had just woken up not an hour ago, was following the strange guitar playing girl, towards the bridge that lead out of town.

N ovember wasn’t too big of a town,  even not the most physically fit person, he was able to run from where he was to the bridge in just a jog’s pace .  H would make it to the bridge. The only entrance and exit out of the town. The area around it, even the few buildings that were nearby, were constantly left in a state of abandonment. Despite its status as a place to come and go, the lack of tourism or people having the desire to leave, the bridge itself was cracked and filthy, with small plant growing up from the cracks in the earth.

There, playing her guitar, tuning it once more, the young woman was leaning over the railing of the bridge. Unlike Jules, she wasn’t even winded. Didn’t even look the least bit tired. But, n ow catching his breath, Jules went over to the musician,  brow furrowed and still wondering why he followed her all the way out here for an answer that he, frankly, wasn’t even that curious about .

“You followed me. You really are a neat fellow.” June said, stopping her strumming, “That’s a first actually for someone to follow me here.” Grinning, she looked to the edge of the bridge, where the final landmark of the town was: A tunnel at the edge of the town, like some sort of portal to the world beyond. “Wonder why no one comes out here…” She said, taking something from her backpack; a bunch of papers. “Now then, have you ever heard of that one called the Guardian Angel?” She said, changing the subject.

If asked about it, Jules would say that the Guardian Angel was nothing more than the slogan of November’s radio station. A weird bit of marketing that was the only thing that the town had going for it… Other than the state of perpetual sunset. Looking to the orange dot in the distance, Jules responded straightforwardly, “They don’t exist.” He said, huffing. While he was annoyed, he figured he might as well stay here for a while. He already ran this way after all; that and she was about to show him something.

“ She is very much real!” The musician exclaimed, flipping through the papers. “ She came to my father a lot  as he tried to sleep . Each time in a different form,” She said, taking a bunch of drawings from her backpack, holding the top page out to Jules.  The drawing was a cross between messy and clean. Very hastily drawn, more of a mess of lines than a single one, but still holding a clear image.  It looked like a candle in the shape of a  masculine  human, the flame being wear the head would be,  the wick acting as a neck . Flipping through the pages, June rambled,  her speech as disjointed as the messy drawings.  “Conjoined twins, sharing a waist. An old man with the body of a young woman… No two forms were ever the same. So my father drew these.” She said, flipping to a page with the aforementioned Old Man. “… And she came to me last night. No legs, no head, only wings, a torso, and arms clasped in prayer.” She said, holding her arms in prayer. “ She wanted to tell me something but no one will believe me!”

T hen, panting from her lack of pausing for breath between her rambles, she waited for Jules to give his response. Would he believe her, she wondered? Her father, long gone, wasn’t there to support her claims. It wasn’t a dream, she kept telling herself this morning, it was too clear, I still remember it.

But, to Jules, what was there to say? The drawings could be the product of a bizarre but imaginative mind. It wasn’t like every surreal image was the result of an actual angel from visiting them. What separated the ghosts from the angel? The ability to look like a candle and enter houses without permission?

Looking to the mesmerizing glow of the perpetual sunset in order to take his mind off this, he waited for himself to calm down before he thought of an answer.

“…Sorry…” June said,  her smile replaced with a frown ,  lowering her hat. “ I always do that to people. Get all weird like.  I was just really hoping that someone would believe me… That the angel exists. Ever since I moved here to live with my father…”

Snapped out of the sun’s trance, Jules’ looked to her, searching up a response. So if she moved here, she wasn’t raised in November? He never heard of such a thing… Everyone he met, from his classmates while grow ing up and his family, all of them had been born and raised in the town. Regardless, he asked a different question, to change the subject. “Mind if I call you Junebug?”

“Nope.” She said with a laugh, “ Don’t think we’re that acquainted yet.”  Before pointing to the sunset. “Y ou know what I’ve always wondered about this place,  though ? Do you think the sun is rising or setting?” She asked, throwing another curveball at the confused Jules,  the 3 rd or 4 th subject change in the short conversation . “Keep hearing people call it a sunset, but I haven’t seen it move down. It only disappears at night. Do you  think it’s rising or setting ?” Idly playing her guitar, she moved away from the railing of the bridge. Shrugging, she grinned, walking off, away from Jules, “Guess it depends on the time of day, huh?” But, her words were lost to Jules, who was now focusing on the sun more than ever. “ Is it even a sun?” June said, walking away, backwards once more.

Was it rising or setting?

“Think I’m gonna go down to the river’s edge.” June said, doing a finger gun in Jules’ direction. “Hope the Guardian Angel visits you too.”

With her usual rhythmic step, June was gone, down towards the river that the bridge was over. With her odd personality, Jules expected her to just take the shortcut and make a jump for it. But now, he was busy focusing on her question.

The state of the sun on the perpetually sunset lit down… Or was it illuminated by a sunrise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we meet two more of the cast. Jules and June. One your every man and one a wild spark of a girl.  
This chapter is one I am truly proud of, unlike the previous ones. That could be because June is my second favorite character as well as the character that I relate to most due to her love for music, even though I'm more like Jules in personality; Jules personality with June's hobbies I suppose. My favorite? He won't be showing up for a while sadly.  
Also if you notice a theme with the names, yup, they're named after months. Jules is a bit more complicated since unlike June and April, July isn't a name. So I went with a name close to it. I have now just realized while typing this, I could've also went with Julius, but Jules sounds cooler.


	6. Act of Flesh: As August

“_I believe that to first understand them is to think like them. Just because they don’t make sense to us, doesn’t mean they don’t make sense to themselves.” _The playback on the cassette tape said, from the less than stellar audio, it was an older recording. Sitting in his apartment, accompanied by dust, a few bottles, and the leftovers from his lunch, the listener removed the cassette with an annoyed grunt. The words on it, written in sharpie, read Interview with Augustus Rivers - #3. With a quick automated motion, he put it back in its jewel case, before putting another cassette in. This one reading Interview with Augustus Rivers - #6.

Fast-forwarding until he got to the part he was looking for, possessing an acute memory of the contents, he stopped. _“__I believe that to first understand children like him, is to see as they see. They make sense to themselves, just not to us. That is where we start.” _Which was then followed by him removing the cassette and putting it back in its case, as quick as the last one.

The listener and the man on the tape, Augustus Rivers, were one and the same. Not the first time he had listened through the tapes, not the last, he had gotten completely use to hearing his own voice. He was a tall and thin man, his age apparent in his facial features, bony and tired looking most of the time. He was told that the combination of these features, his long beard, and bald head that it made him look wise. He told each and every one of them off, that a man’s words indicate his wisdom.

Standing up, Augustus began to get ready for the day. The cloak read one in the afternoon and it was time to move out. As he threw on his coat, he made sure he had all the necessary items: His wallet, his glasses on his face, as well as a book taken off of his desk, stored in his coat pocket: Lesser Minded, Not Lesser in Soul, the title read, written by himself of course, it served as a good luck charm to carry it around. With a quick double check, he also made sure to inspect the half opened nightstand drawer by his bedside out of necessity. Just a couple of photographs, turned over to hide their pictures from a casual view. Nodding to himself, he closed the drawer up and locked it.

With a sigh, he left the dusty old apartment building, out into the orange colored streets. For all his fame within the town, for all the people who recognized him on the street, he found himself living in what some would call poverty. An apartment building that overlooked a poorly maintained parking lot; overgrowth sprouting through the asphalt, a few pieces of trash left to be stepped on, and a lonely pothole in the center. With so few drivers in November, everyone silently agreed that there wasn’t any point in taking care of it. “It ain’t useful, don’t want to put in the effort.” The crooked tooth landlord had told him. The old man found himself momentarily lost in thought as he stared at the broken parking lot, despite seeing it everyday.

Living in such a small and secluded town had its own benefits. When your houses were packed together like building blocks, you become close to your neighbors and those neighbors become close to their neighbors. From this, it didn’t take too much effort to become famous among the community, a celebrity even. Even though November didn’t have any movie stars, famous musicians, or athletes, people could still find their moments of fame; even in these aforementioned categories.. Just as Augustus did.

Former journalistic, guest on the radio, and renown child psychologist, going on to author his own book, still safely tucked away in his coat pocket. Today, it did get him the occasional wave or people greeting him claiming to be inspired by his work. There was the occasional questions from new parents and struggling mothers and fathers. All of which he answered as best as he could. Which was the case recently: It was just a few days ago that he got a question from a family who’s daughter was, in their own words, in terrible condition. A few details later and a discussion over what should be done, they came to the same agreement.

While he considered himself retired, he decided to temporarily come out of this, to see what he could do. With those words on his interview tapes still in his mind, he made his way across the parking lot, a loose piece of asphalt shifting under his foot.

First things first, as he made it to the sidewalk, he stopped by the newspaper rack by the corner. A lone teenager loitering around it that the older man refrained from making eye contact with. He was a man who liked to stay informed after all.

Beyond things that he already knew, such as the man who was found dead on Thursday and a few community events, there wasn’t anything noteworthy.

He walked and read at the same time, considering himself a good multitasker, he did enjoy his walk to the hospital. Walking past the citizens, wondering where they could be going and what they would be doing later. From the old who have been born and raised in town in the old and dusty houses, for the children playing out in the overgrown vacant lot to grow up in them as well.

* * *

It had been two days since she spoke to that ghost. Two days since she had left her body, still wondering just what happened that night. Still left wondering if it was a hallucination, a dream, or possibly the real deal. Regardless of the truth, she knew she couldn’t tell any one, even if she wanted to. Right now, an explanation was impossible… At least until next Wednesday arrived.

The ghosts will just tear her apart wouldn’t they? They would eat her wouldn’t they? Could they even eat and where does it even go? With such a silly question, her mild fear was replaced by mild humor.

Seated in a wheelchair, she found herself being pushed down a hallway that felt a bit longer than it should be. Her eyes were focused towards the direction of the exit frankly. “Nurse, can you please push me in that direction?” She thought to herself. With that being said though, the change of pace from that white, sterile room she had become accustomed to was welcomed.

She did however, have no idea where she was going.

Home was a good option.

Instead she was wheeled around a corner, passing through the lobby, towards the psychology department, with its mahogany colored walls. Hearing those words made her mind jump to them taking her to a scary mental institution, similar to that one in that Ladder movie that she watched while her parents were asleep last year. It wasn’t too scary, especially when you live in a town full of actual horrors.

But, instead of being greeted by blood covered hallways and bizarre twitching people in straitjackets, the department was mostly plain in a comforting way; compared to her room being plain in a boring way.

Finally, the Quiet Nurse, who April nicknamed as such because of her constant lack of conversation, stopped her in front of an ordinary looking door, before opening it and continuing to push April forward.

As she expected, the room was warmly lit, Beige colored walls and slightly darker carpet, while typically boring colors, didn’t bother April. The shelves around the room were decorated with an assortment of knickknacks and tiny statues, all of which looked fun to hold and touch.

It was there that she was greeted by a tall, bearded man, sporting a pair of round glasses, as shiny as his bald head. A man who greeted her with a nod, before looking to the Quiet Nurse, silently signaling her that she could leave; as if talking in her own silent language. Once he was gone, there was a brief moment of silence, as the man adjusted his glasses. But, the silence was soon broken by the man speaking up, a deep voice that carried a good degree of warm friendliness, of someone who was possibly wise as they looked. “Greetings, April, how are you feeling today? I understand you are having some… Complications.” He said, taking a tiny armillary sphere off one of the many shelves of knickknacks.

April didn’t respond. She could only wait for the man to continue. She would be angry over being unable to answer the question, but his friendly tone alleviated that anger just a tiny bit.

“Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Augustus Rivers. I use to work here. The staff here is kind enough to let me use this room. They needed someone with my specialties…” Clearing his voice, he reiterated, “I specialize in children who need help. I have even seen children who were in much worse states.” He said, spinning the rings of the armillary sphere, April with her limited eye movement watched them spin, before looking up to the bespectacled eyes of Augustus, slightly amused by the spinning. “You see, April, they got better. Which means so can you.” She said with a friendly smile and a nod.

Now those words finally took her eyes off of the sphere. While she was still thinking about the previous Event, the idea that people worse than her were cured did get her hopes up… Which lead her to wonder just what did those kids look like? With all her morbid imagination, she could only imagine a kid who was nothing but a head and digestive track, somehow still alive. With the idea of getting better in her head, she listened more to Dr. Rivers. Her eyes widened with hope.

Setting his toy aside, he leaned close to her, putting a hand on her knee. “Just like that. Communication is possible. That’s our first step. It doesn’t have to be speech, but blinking. How does two blinks for yes and three blinks for no. We will skip one blink, since we do that on reflex.

To which, April responded with an answer out of left field to see how he responded: Four blinks… Causing Augustus to lean back in humorous bewilderment, just the answer that April was hoping for.

“I take that as a yes?”

To which April responded with a more genuine answer: two blinks, her spirits brought up; not in the literal sense of course.

From there, with the grounds for their communication settled, Augustus, pulled out a notepad. “Good good. Then if you please… If you are feeling up for it, will you answer a few questions of mine, your parents want to know as well.”

While the mention of her parents lead her to hesitate, April answered with another two blinks. “Yes you can.” She thought to herself. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and didn’t plan to go back to that room. Augustus was, after all, the first person to have some form of conversation with her since she got like this; other than the weird ghost of course… She wasn’t quite counting him, because of how weird he was.

The things he asked her were simple and quick. Do you like it here? You understand this is confidential? Do you want to go home which had an obvious answer? Things such as if she remembered the night she became paralyzed, if she missed her home and her friends, if she was in any pain most of the time or how much feeling did she have throughout her body, and if she was scared on the night of the Synchronicity Event.

She didn’t remember the night, responding with three blinks. Being limited to only yes or no answers, she couldn’t quite go into details about the recurring dream.

“Mom and dad…” She thought to herself in response to the parents question. They hadn’t been visiting her very much. Should she still love them? She didn’t have very many friends back home, so she couldn’t even answer “yes I miss them” to that. But, not wanting to look mean, she responded with two blinks anyways.

She wasn’t in pain, so her answer was simple. Three blinks.

Lastly, the million dollar question. Was she scared that night? Several things happened that night that were beyond explanation right now. Her leaving her body, a ghost talking with her, and the growing curiosity that she could venture out into the streets. She was a bad liar, her dad always told her, never able to get away with it. But here, she thought she had more of a chance. So, she responded with two blinks.

Having got all the answers he needed for the day, the old man nodded, closing his notepad with a nod. “That’s all I needed, thank you. Unless you want to know more. Do you want to know more?” He said, pointing to the notepad.

April responded with another two blinks. A nice change of pace, but possessing such a short attention span, she was already growing bored. As nice as Augustus was. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want more meetings like this, maybe with different people.

“What’s say we meet next Thursday?” He asked, pushing a button on the nearby desk, paging the nurse to come get April. “I’ll talk with your parents and they’ll see when we’ll meet again… But Thursday sounds good to us, huh?” He asked, raising a brow, prompting April to answer with a yes series of blinks. With the nurse already arrived to take April back to the white room, Augustus waved goodbye. “See you again, little one.”

From there, April would be taken back to the white room with the constant sunset shining through the window. But, not to the knowledge of Augustus, the Quiet Nurse, or even her parents, Thursday night wasn’t what she was looking forward to.

This time, it would be Wednesday night.

The night she planned to leave the building, to explore the street on the nights of the event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have our August, a man known as August. He's a character I'm very hesitant to write for reasons that'll be clear later.   
Over all I love the beginning of this one, I love writing about desolate and decayed places. Abandoned stuff. I always find beauty in nature and time overtaking man made things


	7. Act of Flesh: Illusion Illness

Another lazy, Wednesday morning, June moved through the streets with a single destination in mind. She could already hear chatter about the Event going on tonight, some people were worried, others were excited, and others were apathetic; if anything the Event did bring people together. The musician moved with a spring in her step, moving to the beat of a song that had been stuck in her head all night last night; coincidentally, music had to do with her destination, the music store. After an incident there where the owner accidentally broke her guitar strings, he promised June that he would give her some free CDs as an apology. She would feel guilty, seeing as the CDs were usually 3 times as much as the strings, she couldn’t say no to free music; after all, even when hearing about new digital ways to share music, CDs and vinyls were the only way to go.

As it usually did, the November Radio was playing its usual broadcast. June stopped at a small stand selling newspapers to eavesdrop in on what it was saying. This time it started off with its recognizable slogan: The Guardian Angel Watches Over Us. To which June would give the reply of _“She certainly does… But I’m her favorite,” _she said, half in jest.

“So, November’s famous bowling alley is having its 25 th  anniversary isn’t it?” The familiar man on the radio said in his usual upbeat cadence.

“Famous? You’re too kind.” Said the guest star, a woman, possibly the owner of the establishment. “To think that it was just a small family owned place just 2 decades ago! If you come by in the next week, we’re having half off on-” At that point, June tuned out and moved on, her short attention span only caring so much about things like bowling. She was a guitarist who could strum like the pros, yet when it came to any other uses of her fingers, whether it be typing, sports, or cooking, she was as clumsy as a newborn baby.

So, she marched through the streets towards her first and final stop for the day, her hat shielded her eyes from the morning sunset. It was then that she almost slipped out of her road worn sandals as she came to an immediate halt, muttering out a confused “…Huh?”

A pawnshop, whose window as decorated with several tacky signs, boasting about jewelry, scrap, and loans. “Buy! Sell! Loan!” The sign out front said, accompanied by a drawing of a cartoon caricature of a business man, his hand motioned towards the front entrance to greet people inside. While he seemed cute, June vaguely recalled her family being bitten in the ass by loans, that cutesy cartoon smile didn’t seem very cute to June. But, that was besides the point. There were more important matters to focus on right now.

This wasn’t the building that was there a few days ago. June boasted a flawless sense of direction, she couldn’t have gone the wrong way, could she? Taking off her hat, she surveyed the area, to check and see if there was another landmark that caught her eyes. There, right next to the pawnshop was a laundromat, one that she visited from time to time. The same exact laundromat that was next to the music store that was here a few days ago.

June was confident that there was no way that she made a mistake on her way over here and there was no way that the music store would pull a prank like this. Curious, she looked inside the pawnshop, one foot outside and one foot inside. Noticeably empty, the only person inside was the elderly man at the counter. With no customers, he passed the time reading a book. He looked old enough to be the father of the owner of the music shop, old enough to be June’s grandfather. The interior that was once full of rows and rows of CDs and vinyl records, was now replaced by locked glass cases of gaudy jewelry. The walls that were once plastered with posters of bands both classic and modern were now barren. No more was there a radio playing classic hits from the 70s or 80s, something that served as a big reason why June returned again and again to the store.

The only thing that caught her eye was the rack of guitars, both electric and acoustic, hidden in the corner next to some rolled up posters in a bin. However, there was no way that any guitar would be able to replace Mr. Strummer; that’s what June named her guitar.

“You lost?” the old owner said with a sigh, looking down from his book. The musician snapped her attention away from the guitars and over to him The old man’s irritated tone told June everything she needed to know about him; that he lacked patience and had a nasty temper. But, she was a lethal combination of persistent and curious, so, she asked him a question, “Yo,” she said as she looked him in the eyes as she stepped further inside the building. “What happened to that music store that was here a few days ago? Nelson’s Records, it was called.”

To which the old man looked at her like she was some sort of alien. Yet, he set aside his book and shook his head, only to answer her question with a question of his own. “Do you want music? I have music.” He said and gave a motion over to an insignificant rack of CDs behind the counter.

June gripped the strap of her guitar. She would be more willing to continue to pry if the man’s tone had any notion of respect for the person on the other end. “Sorry, I can see from here that those CDs aren’t worth buying. Not selling the guitar either.” The pawnshop owner didn’t ask for the guitar, yet she did feel the need to add that last part. “The music shop was here 6 days ago? Did it seriously go out of business?”

“N_ot only went out of business but also replaced by a fully restocked pawn_shop.” June thought to herself as she tried to grasp for an explanation.

The old man made a confused grunt. June’s lazy tone didn’t help her case; he must have thought she was high or on some other drug. “I’ve been working here for 2 years now. Never has there been a music shop here. So you can leave now.” He said as a tall man brushed passed June as he entered the shop, with out so much as a quiet apology. Done with the conversation, the old man picked his book back up, “I don’t like window shoppers.”

With that, June was out of options. She was sure that if she stuck around any longer that this man would call the cops; the newcomer to the store didn’t look very nice either. But, annoyed and not very happy with how she was treated, she couldn’t leave without a snide remark, not caring how insane it made her sound. “Have fun going out of business too then.”

She had to admit her insults could use some work…

“Get lost and don’t come back.” The old man didn’t even look up from his book. “I don’t like your kind here.”

“My kind, huh?” June said under her breath, quiet enough that she believed the man wouldn’t hear it. June stepped her foot forward, only to stop herself, She w_ou_ld have lost her temper if it wasn’t for the thought at the back of her head that told herself to be the better person. So, soon, June found herself back on the streets, at the same place she started.

“What now…?” She tapped her chin in though, her mind already suggested a few things only to shut them down. She could go practice her guitar, but she already did that enough and could multitask. She could go look for Jules, but she doubted that he could provide much. She could go down to the bowling alley that the radio mentioned, yet… She didn’t remember November ever having a bowling alley.

So, she came to conclusion that it was time to go to the bridge out of town; the designated place that she went to when she wanted to be alone and get away from it all. All the while, she strummed her guitar on the way there. No song in mind this time, just a few scales: Every good boy does fine, every good boy does fine, every good boy does fine. She hadn’t received the music she wanted and she certainly didn’t want to go down to a bowling alley that was both new and 25 years old. As a wanderer, she knew the town of November like the back of her hand. She was confident there was no place in the small town that she didn’t know about.

Past the well kept buildings and consistently cleaned roads, there was the outer edges of town, which made way to a more vacant and desolate environment. The broken pavement with plant life that rose up through the cracks. Trash cans that once held filth and discarded cans, not used as a home for a family of raccoon. A rolled off tire, now wrapped in the roots of a tiny tree. The reclaimed environment instilled an odd calming effect into June; more than just that, it was the silence that she truly loved. June gently kicked at a piece of road that was sticking out of the ground like a broken floor tile. With little resistance it turned over to reveal nothing of interest underneath; that was unless there was someone out there who found more concrete to be interesting.

Perhaps it was interesting in how uninteresting it was. There were no stories or noteworthy tales about it. The closest thing she could think of was the story of a car that crashed into the river just a week or two ago; yet even then, she wasn’t sure if that was just something she dreamed up or not. But, in June’s mind, there was a place she held close to heart. A landmark that she simply referred to as “The Tunnel.” There at the end of the bridge was the passage where one would officially leave the town. Yet, no matter how many times she came here, she never saw anyone come out of it or any one leave through it. The darkness within hid the end or any possible turns, something that made it impossible to tell whether it was a straight path or a winding one It might as well have been a brick wall, painted black, and she would be none the wiser.

When she gazed into the darkness, she lied to herself and said that she didn’t want to venture through to the end, maybe even leave the town to see what lies beyond. Would it change tonight when the world of spirits and the physical world coincided? Even more curious, she wondered why no one else felt the same way about it as she did.

Yet, every time she would walk towards the dark tunnel, she found her feet rooted to the ground, as if some hypnotic trance kept her from moving forward. With a smile though, she looked into the darkness, guitar in hand. “Is this where you hide when the sun is out, Angel?” She asked, as if she would get a response. With as much strength as she could muster, she took another step forward, yet no more than that. All it took was one step and she found herself rooted once more.

With a sigh, having accepted defeat, despite her temptation, and despite her tenacity, she had no choice but to turn around. As a particularly superstitious person, the most obvious answer to being halted again and again as such, was a spell put on her by the Angel. She would be laughed at if she gave that excuse to others.

“Another day, another time, my sweet angel.” She shook her head and sighed. She wasn’t going to let this failed attempt ruin her evening. So, she turned around by swiveling on her heel, and placed her guitar on her back. It was then she was greeted by her second guest on the bridge. Another girl, who stood there at the edge. A girl about the same build as June: tall and noticeably.

Clad in jeans and a simple black shirt, the thing that most quickly caught June’s attention though was the eerily realistic rabbit mask that the girl wore. Realistic enough that in a dark room, you’d mistake her for a human with a rabbit’s head in the place of their own. The rabbit girl did not move. Only stood there in silence as her mask’s amber eyes pierced June’s soul, who found herself yet again paralyzed. “Any sudden movements and she’ll probably shiv me,” June told herself. The musician claimed to be brave, showing no fear around the ghosts that made their presence known every week, but creepy people were the real scary ones.

It wasn’t until June began to slowly make her way past the rabbit girl, that the masked one spoke in a familiar tone that June couldn’t quite place, despite having never seen the girl before. “…The ripest looking fruit can be just as bittersweet as the rotten.” With what sounded like cracking, the rabbit masked girl snapped her head towards June. Despite the swift motion of her head, her body stayed still. “…Thus spoke the March Hare.”

The musician found herself frozen yet again, staring at the March Hare, as she called herself. Why did she feel so nostalgic? Nostalgia for someone she had never met or seen before. The Hare went silent yet again, neither her nor June speaking, the two of them only holding eye contact as June heard the town’s speakers blaring their weekly warning of the Synchronicity Event, as if it was some sort of invitation for the spirits of the night to make their appearance. It was only then did the March Hare speak once more, with a twist of her body, as she gave a few words, “Leave and go home. It is a longer night tonight. She is making changes.” She stroked her mask’s ears back, the strange girl shook her head, “…Or stay out. Just don’t dive into the deep and scream when the sharks bite.”

Which, coincidentally, was what June already planned to do. She had zero intentions on going back to her apartment and to wait until the sun rose. The musician walked backwards, before she turned around to break into a fast walk. To head toward her usual hiding spot that she may spend the night out tonight.

What better night than to explore the town than tonight? This night, she had plans that she plotted out since the night after the last event.

This time she would see the angel.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of town, a pair of men waited in their own dusty home, surrounded by beer cans and cigarettes. The two of them watched the light fade from the city and the first few ethereal motes form. One man, a thin man in a pony tail, with a rotund bald man in the chair behind him.

The thin one, who continued to look outside, snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, hands free. His lack of arms, which were missing at the shoulder, did nothing to impede his habits. With a cough, he looked back to his friend. “Another long night, tonight, ain’t it Toby? Tonight’s the town square…? Gonna be a big gathering there, I can feel it.” He said with a grin, as he stood up and threw his coat on; a sleeveless one that was easy to slip on and off without the use of one’s arms. On the breast pocket was a name tag that read “Timbers.”

The amputee awaited a reply from his larger friend, who only nodded. The large man kept a stoic, blank expression, despite his friend’s more expressive nature.

Just as they planned, they were going out tonight. All that there was to do now was to get comfortable. The two already knew what they were going to do tonight. No ulterior motive, no sense of discovery, their plan tonight was that they had no plan. Of all the days of the week in this town, tonight was the best night for thrill seeking.

* * *

In the hospital, April stared at her empty shell of a body, yet again she had left it, in sync with the disappearance of the sun.

It was tonight she had made a promise to herself. To leave the building and explore the streets as the ghosts came out. To fight off her fear that they were dangerous or out to harm her. Tonight was the only night she could get up and move around, with all the childish joy she could.

With one last look out the window, she saw the familiar sighting of a giant manta ray like creature. Maybe the area below it would be her first stop.

Then after that, wherever the wind blows.

* * *

Meanwhile, in his hotel room, Augustus listens to tapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get a taste of what is to come. As well as three more characters. Timbers, Toby, and the March Hare. This marks the end of the Act of Flesh and ushers in the next part, Act of Soul. An act in which that will focus on the ghost world and the bizarre nature of the spirits more and more, as well as a looming threat in the city when the sun sets.  
This is another chapter that I'm really proud of and hope that others feel the same.  
Also if you're wondering what Toby and Timber's names come from, they are October and September respectively. I really had to stretch the naming scheme with them.


	8. Act of Soul: Angel's Anthem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The veil is lifted and people wander the streets cast out of their bodies.   
The Child, the Wanderer, the Thrillseeker, the Quiet Man.   
May their paths cross for the better.

Cold are the Men Who Murder their Kin

Cold are the Men Who Murder their Bodies

Cold are the Men Who Murder their Gods

Do Not Be Angered by These Creatures

Do Not Be Angered by Things They Don’t Understand

Do Not Be Angered by their Confusion

Bring Me My Spear

Bring the Sun to a Halt

Bring them Salvation

Let Them Cry My Name

Let Them Be Swaddled in my Wing

Let Them Find Happiness

Free Will is a Poison on this Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second poem of the series. Not much to say here, but as of now, this marks the end of what I have completed.  
My writing progress goes as follows: I write the chapter without really caring about the formalities like grammar and if something sounds bad or not. The following writing, I read through the chapter and edit as I please. Find mistakes or rewrite stuff that sounds wonky.


	9. Act of Soul: Street Strut

With the whole night to herself, April stood on the normally freezing cold street. Despite frost forming on the windows and grass, April couldn’t even feel the cold, even with the thin shirt and pants the hospital made her wear. Not that she was accustomed to cold. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t even stand in front of the fridge for too long. It was as if her body felt no stimulation from the outside air at all; to tell the truth, she could get use to something like this. With a determined expression, she took her first few steps away from the hospital doorstep and looked to the sky, and watched as a few miscellaneous spirits drifted in the wind, far in the sky above her, like a bunch of jellyfish; also known as a bloom if her assortment of useless trivia was on point.

“They aren’t going to hurt you,” she told herself as she continued to step away from the hospital; dangerous maybe, but they weren’t going to hurt her. Her brown eyes observed the street, looked rather barren from where she was. She expected a hospital to at least have a few more spirits hanging around; maybe this hospital just didn’t have a morgue. While she was glad there weren’t any ghosts around here, the more courageous part of her mind kept telling her that if she was to truly test her mettle, she had to go to a place that was full of them; a place that had more than one at the very least. April looked to the distance, the town had very few tall buildings so someone with a keen eye could see far and wide. There, far in the distance, a bright light shined over the rooftops, pure and white. Perhaps that would be the first location that she visited? It was just a few blocks down, yet the light was bright enough to make its presence known. So, the young, half determined half sheepish girl began to make her way down the street, towards the alluring light in the distance. As April moved closer and closer, she was quick to notice that it too was moving as well. But not towards her at least. Whatever was projecting it could very well be the ghost she was looking for.

But, as she came closer and closer to it, she began to question the action more and more. With a lingering sense of determination, still blocks away from the light, she thought to herself what would happen if whatever was projecting the light was dangerous. What would happen if she was hurt in her current state? Could she even be hurt by it? Whatever her decision was or whether or not these questions had an answer, she had to decide quick. As even as she pondered the specifics of how things worked around here, the source of the light was coming closer, its white radiance shining over the rooftops.

Yet, before she could think on it further and come up with a proper answer, April looked to her left and was met face to face with one of the many ghosts that haunted the streets, stuffed within an alleyway. It looked human in that it had 2 arms, 2 legs, a head, and a torso, but the first thing April noticed about the thing was that it was incredibly tall. Even 3 men standing on each other’s shoulders would barely be able to match the height of the ghost, even from the sitting position it was in. Despite its large size though, it was rather thin, squeezed between the walls of two buildings in an alley, its long bony arms brushed up against the walls between it. The thing tilted its head and stared at April with a curious look. When a child sees something that they have never seen before… This was one of those looks. Then, without warning, it reached for April before the girl could even let out a scream, with her small body and legs, she was helpless to escape from the grasp of the giant ghost.

“No! Stop!” April yelped, held in the giant’s hand, close to its wrinkled face. Yet, even as she struggled and pushed to no effect, even as she assumed that her journey had come to an end as soon as it started, and even as she began to worry about what would happen next, the giant’s grip remained strong yet gentle. Difficult to fight again, yet she had made no attempt to crush April like a grape in her hand. Slowly, it opened its hand, with a gross cracking sound, its fingers uncurled to give April a better look at its rather haggard face. With its free hand, the ghost held a finger up to its mouth, despite its lack of lips, it made a shushing noise and shook its head; said finger was longer than April was tall. Despite its enormous size, it spoke with a quiet effeminate voice that was more befitting of a kind but tired grandmother than a giant mummified body in between two alleys. “Fear not… I won’t hurt you… Stay here.” Slowly, the ghost pointed in the direction where the light was coming from. “Light… Not good…” With no further words, the giant scooted further down the alley that it called home, dust fell from its back in a giant cloud. From there, it April to its chest with both hands, like one would hold a small animal. Not that such an action stopped April from worrying if this ghost was going to kill her or worse. But, at least she was calmed down enough to stop her struggle. Not that she could do anything against it anyways.

Then, as the pair waited, the alleyway became illuminated by the light from before. Whatever had been giving off such a bright light was right outside the alley. With April in one hand, the giant covered her eyes with the other hand. With such an intense bright light, April was sure that if she were to look directly at it, she would go blind; if she could go blind with her out of body condition. With the source of the light directly behind her, April found herself filled with a sensation that she could quite place. The feeling you get when you teeter at the edge of a fatal drop. When a professional fighter faces down an opponent leagues ahead of him. The feeling of witnessing a natural disaster unfold before you. What was this feeling?

Yet, she could not shake the temptation to turn around and get a look at whatever it was behind her, just a quick peek and nothing more, only to find herself stopped by the finger of the giant that held her. The light only lingered at the edge of the alley for a few seconds, but it was enough to instill such a feeling within the young April. Before long, the alley would be dark once more.

Whatever it was, it had now moved on. Not gone from the streets of November, but away from the vicinity.

With the light gone, the giant set April down like a kitten, she even gave her a small pat on the head with her bony finger. The young girl stared up at the giant, still trembling; not at the giant anymore but at whatever was giving off the light from earlier. The ghost had the body of a monster, like a giant petrified corpse, who would surely be able to effortlessly crush April like an insect. Yet, as the giant spoke, its voice was gentle, motherly even. Straight to the point too. “I’m Jane.” It casually introduced itself, giving a small wave despite its minimal arm movement. Despite its lack of lips, the sides of its mouth lifted, as if it was trying to smile.

April, meanwhile, sheepishly waved back, and responded with an equally sheepish, “Hi… Jane. I’m April.” The young girl looked behind her, even now there was a faint glow that came from down the street. The intensity of it shining down the street and around corners. April just had to ask her helper. “What was…?” She muttered, unable to find words. But, Jane looked like she understood April’s question before she even finished.

“Bad Light. Don’t let her find you.” Jane pointed out of the alley, a motion that directed April to no location in particular. “Stay to alleys like here. Hide from Light. Safe in the dark. Too much Light in street.”

A pause came up between the two, while April slowly stepped backwards towards the exit, in the same fashion one would when they want to leave a conversation but are too polite. “Right…” She was certain that she understood what Jane was talking about.

“Come see me again. Before that, I check Light,” Jane said. Then, with a rumble, she slowly stood up. More and more dust fell from her back. Bones cracked with each tiny motion. As she stood up, her full height was viewed in full, even taller than what April expected, the young girl just barely stood over the giant’s foot. The extreme height was made even more apparent by her skinny, emaciated appearance. From there, Jane, from where she was, looked in the direction the light from earlier went, a few seconds passed by, not that April kept track. While April wanted to leave, the giant had proved herself to helpful and even friendly this whole time. Leaving now would be impolite, wouldn’t it? As slow as she stood up, the giant sat back down with a huff. “Light gone. Back to the Starting Point perhaps. Small One may leave.” Jane held her finger towards April and tilted her head curiously. “Be careful Small One…”

With one last nod, April began to make her way out of the alley, she did take one more glance back, towards the giant, and with a nod, she smiled “…Thank you.” Perhaps the first ghost that she communicated with, last week in her hospital room, was a fluke or just a weirdo. That isn’t to say Jane wasn’t weird. On the weirdness scale that April had just now formed in her head, Jane was probably a 7 compared to the last guy’s 11; out of 10, that is. Now, April just had to figure out where to go next. While she could just go back to the hospital and call it a night, that was coward talk. Even still, the presence that she felt when being illuminated by the light lingered. So, she wandered the streets to help shake the feeling. For now, April decided to observe and not interact, certain that not all of them would be as friendly as Jane, but all of them looked equally as scary. A man who looked partially melted, a headless man pushing a large wooden cart full of jars that glowed in the night, a woman covered in fungus. None of them approached the young girl or each other for the most part. There was the occasional curious stare but that’s about all the interaction April had received.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head about the different forms that ghosts would assume and how it was determined by how they were in life. But the more she thought on it the more she realized that it was, excuse her language, bullshit. How did fungus or melting have anything to do with good and evil?

Maybe she was too young for such metaphysical questions.

Besides, she had suddenly found herself at a favorite spot of hers when she was growing up. A small park on the side of town. One that had remained unchanged for so long. While she hadn’t visited it in such a long time, she would always feel a sense of nostalgia when she passed it. Even tonight, on this night of death and spirits, the nostalgic feeling was no different. But, it looked like she wasn’t the only person who decided to visit tonight.

There, within it, was a trio of figures.

Three tall spirits, each of them clad in white robes. Nowhere near as tall as Jane though but tall by human standards, and definitely able to tower over the tiny April. Their immaculate white robes concealed their bodies, from the way they flowed and covered all but their hands and faces, gave the impression they had no bodies underneath. Their faces were concealed by blank gold masks, which made their pale, skeletal hands all the more visible.

April knew not if they were friendly or not, so she steadily approached. Like a nature photographer who watched their target from a distance, the young girl knelt down besides a seesaw in the corner of the park, and simply watched the trio of ghosts speak, as if this was some sort of ghostly business meeting, in a park for children of all places. From the sound of things, she came in just as one of them was finishing a story.

“…So the kind king of the flies said to the beggar frog that he could live in wealth under his name, with his leaf staff, he presented him with a field of bugs that he could eat to his hearts content.” One of them said, in a raspy, female voice. The only thing that discerned her from the rest of them was her voice and the gold baton she had in hand, like a thin, shining conductor’s baton.

“So the frog and the fly lived in harmony? Because of the act of a king to a beggar?” The other one said, as he rubbed his chin with one hand, and in the other, held some sort of golden orb. This one’s voice was far deeper. In his right hand, the spirit held a golden sphere.

“No.” The baton holding ghost said, shaking her head. “The frog ate the fly and went on living his life as a beggar. The kingdom of flies never found their king again and never asked about it.” The ghost shook her head as she tapped her baton in her palm, along with a quiet laugh.

“What tragedy.” The deep voiced ghost said and shook his head, as he looked to the third, silent member of the trio. “What is the point of such a story? Perhaps there is some irony in a king to be eaten by a beggar?”

“When one faces tragedy and hardship, those outside of it see it more than anyone else. Those under it might not be able to see it, just as the beggar frog couldn’t see it.” The third, previously silent ghost said. Unlike the other two, he held nothing. He was visible taller than the other two. “That is the meaning of your story, isn’t it, Madame?”

“No.” The Madame replied to the taller ghost with a flick of her baton. “I just thought it was a funny story. The moral of the story is that if you’re a fly, you shouldn’t make deals with a hungry frog. You are right though in that a king who lives in splendor faces the fate of going through the insides of a beggar who lives in squalor.”

Meanwhile, still watching them, April stifled a laugh at the story. Maybe this Madame ghost isn’t so bad.  
“Comical.” The sphere-holding ghost said, “Then it is my turn now? I have no story planned this-” But then, he cut himself short, mid-sentence, and slowly began to turn his head in the direction of April. The young girl gulped as she realized she had been seen. The first ghost’s stare was followed by his companions, all three of them now had their sights fixed on the eavesdropper. But, rather than freeze up like a scared animal, despite the scared look in her eyes, April stood up and started backing up, they had already seen her, there was no point of trying to hide.

The taller of the ghosts, tilted his head, pointing a dry, skeletal hand at April. “It appears we have a visitor…”

“An eavesdropper more like,” the Madame said, “You look lost, child.” She said, as she reached her hand out to the scared young girl with a bleached white hand. She glided forward, the small plants, even the metal of the playground equipment, became covered in a thick layer of frost. In an excited tone, the so called Madame hissed, “…Could it be that you don’t belong here?”

Steadily, with her long arm, she reached out to April as if to grab her, just as the eavesdropping girl began to run, she felt the ground beneath her began to shift. Not just April, but the trio of ghosts, all felt their balance thrown off. Not like an earthquake, but more akin to the ground being made of clay. The grass, the ground, and even the park equipment was bending and warping. Large mounds of earth rising out of the ground like something was coming up from beneath. Whatever was happening with the change in the earth, April knew she couldn’t be here long, and from the looks of things, the three ghosts were quick to regain their balance; the same couldn’t be said about April though.

“Appears she is making changes,” the deep voice ghost said, as he bowed his head to touch his forehead to his sphere. “We can’t stay here.”

“Indeed,” the Madame said in response, as she continued to watch April scramble for her escape to no avail.

“A fickle mistress. As for our eavesdropper.” The three ghosts loomed over April, with little escape in sight, not knowing whether they were hostile or not, the earth shifted beneath her, threatening to swallow her up, as the taller of the ghosts reached out to grab the young girl. “Come, young one… Oh curious mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew  
This one was an exhausting write, seeing as it is about 1/5 the length of the rest of the story. Here we get a view of the city at night, a powerful presence within the streets, and the friendly ghost known as Jane, who fills the naming scheme of January.  
The trio of ghosts, who I call The Madame, The Tall One, and the Holder, are inspired by the works of Mike Mignolia; originally they were more mummy like but I went with masks that hide their skeletal faces. As for the Madame's story, it is a reference to a joke story I wrote for my creative writing class one time.  
Over all, I'm proud of this chapter. It's also fun to develop April more. I have kept portraying her as moody and easily scared, but it feels fun to slowly have her gain courage. I plan to have her talk much more and develop her personality. Since she isn't very talkative it's somewhat hard to write her in moments like these.  
What happened there at the end, just what is the Light, and what will happen to April has yet to be written. So until then, I'd hate to say it, but "To be continued..."


	10. Act of Soul: Kingly Knowledge

“Did I pass out?” was the first thing that cross April’s mind as she came back to reality. Soon, the question was ignored in favor of “Where am I?”

The last thing she remembered was being caught by those 3 ghosts. That could’ve been moments ago or hours. With no real means to tell the time before and after, she was at a loss, especially in a town where the sun never rose nor set. Slow, she sat up, trying to come to her senses. Again, a plus to her out of body state was she felt no soreness, despite resting on a concrete rooftop.

The young girl looked around. “I can’t be that far from the park,” She thought to herself, as she started to stand up. With no fatigue, any choice to not get get up was out of laziness or confusion, not exhaustion. But, much to her confusion and dismay, the area around her looked familiar, but there was no park in site. But it was an area she knew was close to the park.

“How…?” April said as she made an attempt to find the park despite the all too familiar area. But, right now, finding the park was the least of her problems. It was mere moments before she noticed the thick layer of frost on the ground and the mist in the air. It was then April knew who was standing behind her.

The three spirits from earlier, in their white cloaks and gold masks, loomed over her, their sudden appearance made April assume they were there watching her rest. Two of them, the Tall One and the shorter one with his golden sphere were off to the sides, while their ringleader, the apply named Madame, stood directly behind her. Then, in her raspy voice, the Madame spoke, “The Lost Child awakes. For a second I thought that she was gone to us.”

“We were worried that we were too much for you. Did you have a heart attack, dear? A curious thought to think that the dead can die.” The Tall One said, while he stroked his chin with his long bony fingers, as he brought his hand down to brush it up against April’s shoulder. Even with his enormous height, his lanky arms were still long enough to reach her, an action that resulted in April backing up with a shiver.

With a good bit of distance between the trio and April, the young girl had no plans to be any where near her skeletal stalkers. Hands out in front of her in a defensive stance, just like in those karate classes that she took at a young age; deep down though, she knew that karate of her (untrained child) level would fare poorly against a trio of supernatural beings. “Go away!” she said, her tough defensive stance disrupted by her meek stutter; she surprised even herself that she was protesting against them. But, as before, her curiosity prevented her from running; in order to figure out just why they brought her up here.

“Still your hand, Lost Child.” The Holder ghost said, as he took a step forward. “We pulled you out of the Angel’s divine work. Perhaps a thank you would be much appreciated.” He said with a lift of his arm, his long thin arm pointed just down the street.

April followed the ghost’s directions and looked. There, where the four once were, the park that April once spent so much of her early childhood at, was now gone. In its place was an entirely different building, a church. It wasn’t any building that April had seen before, not in that exact spot at least; despite their creed that spoke of a guardian angel, the town of November didn’t have much of a religious community, likely as a result of being surrounded by the dead once a week. “Where is…? Where did the park go?” April stuttered, eyes wide. The park was more or less a vacant lot between the two buildings, with a few playground pieces here and there. Not the most charming place for kids to play in between the trash and traffic, but it was a part of her childhood. But, as her eyes began to adjust to the dark, her brain finally back in working order, there was no mistaking it. The two buildings at each side of the new church were the same ones that were once on each side of the park. The three ghosts behind her only observed April’s steadily rising confusion.

“Where’s the park?” She asked again, April now fully turned her attention towards the Madame, still she put on an assertive voice, despite the clear difference in power, height, and knowledge. But, the tall Madame only responded by putting her hand to her mask, and slowly removed it with a dry cracking noise.

“Poor Lost Child. Now that you finally talk, you only ask questions. No respect for those who rescued you. Curious little things you Sleepwalkers are.” She said, her face revealed to be nothing but bone. Small streams of freezing cold air leaked from her eye sockets.

“Perhaps give a response that isn’t a question, Lost Child.” The Tall One said, using a snide tone as if to mock April for her confusion. The Tall One motioned on over to where the park once was, the church now in its place. “Perhaps we shall ask the questions now? Your park, the place where we once stood and told our stories, tell us about it.”

April pondered over what the Tall One said, not being given much of a choice in the matter “It was a place where I played as a child. But why is there a church there?” She asked, as she looked back to the church, its ornate pillars and steeple showing a great deal of craftsmanship that would take several days, lest a few seconds. The way the ground shifted, nearly swallowing her whole earlier. That, without a doubt, had something to do with it.

In response, the three ghosts chatted amongst themselves, under their breath so that April couldn’t hear their discussion. She could only make out a few things that the Madame was saying, she spoke a lot for someone who didn’t have lips, “Poor child… She doesn’t understand… Can’t tell her...” Soon, their conversation came to a close, looks like they had enough of keeping April paranoid and on the verge of running away. The three of them turned to face April in unison, their cold silence, their imposing height, all nearly overpowering April. Then, finally, the Madame spoke up, “It appears to us that the Light has blinded you to the Truth. Only now do you regain your sight. Yet, it is our decision that Sleepwalkers like you should stay ignorant. You remember your park, yes, but is that just what your memory tells you?”

“But, we shall throw you a bone, so to speak… If you forgive our word play.” The Tall One said as he tapped his skeletal arm.

As she spoke, the giant manta ray spirit that flew over town, its size acted as a living landmark, swooped over the four. Large enough to cast a shadow upon them, the dark rooftop became even darker. Its sheer size even more apparent when it was right above them. The normally silent Holder ghost spoke up, looking up at the ray, “This town’s sins run deep. A putrid stain that blackens this town, burning the land and stilling the sun in the sky. Such a sin is punished as you see before you.”

“That is all we wish to give you. Live in your ignorance, Sleepwalker.” The Tall One followed up on his companion’s statements. Slowly, the three of them began to disperse into mist, ready to depart from the scene. “Walk the streets as you see fit, but nothing more. Even the sweetest looking fruit can be as bitter as the rotten.”

As the three began to disperse, April balled her fists. These three dragged her all the way up her. She had questions and damn did she give them. Now she was only receiving a bunch of cryptic phrases that she didn’t even vaguely understand. So, she shouted at the Madame, the Tall One, and the Holder. “Punishment for what? What are you talking about!”

By the time she finished her question, the Tall One and the Holder were completely disappeared. All that was left on the rooftop was the leader of the trio, the imposing Madame, and the young confused April. But even still, the head ghost continued to only give cryptic answers. This time, just three words that meant nothing at all to April. “The Slave King…”

Then, in a burst of mist that froze over most of the rooftop, April was alone. The young confused girl came with questions and left with even more. What was the Slave King? What did it have anything to do with being punished? Why was the town being punished and how? But now a more immediate question crossed her mind.

“What now?” She bowed her head, as she turned to the edge of the roof, an intrusive thought overtook her mind.

The Slave King, a punishment, a park that disappeared and was replaced by a church, and a town haunted by the dead and a powerful Light. April backed away from the edge of the roof, before breaking into a full on sprint. She followed the logic that if she didn’t feel cold, heat, or really anything in this form, same must go for pain. Her body felt so light as well. It was a gamble and crazy one at that. But she had no bones to break. What more could she lose if she was a vegetable back in the hospital room. With one powerful leap, the young girl jumped from the second story rooftop to the ground below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More questions to be had. We know just about as much as April does.  
There is the mention of that name, the Slave King, who hasn't been mentioned since the poem in the very first chapter. Who is he and what is the punishment, why is the town changing as seen with the park and the music store from earlier, then there is also that phrase "Sleepwalker".  
I enjoyed writing the trio so you can expect to see them in the future. I don't have a name for the group, but I affectionately refer to them with the non-canon group name of The Bone Zone.
> 
> Update: Currently working on Chapter 11. This chapter will be focusing on the men seen at the end of Act of Flesh. It should be out before the end of the month. Thank you those who are reading this. Means a lot.


	11. Act of Soul: Duo Delve

Few people were brave enough to be out at this time. Few were brave enough to interact with the spirits. In the streets, a pair of men moved about. These two were part of the few who were brave enough to do both of these things. Just like the young April, whose body was back at the hospital, their bodies too were back at their apartment.

One, a rather scrawny man, shoulder length hair wrapped back in a ponytail, a slight amount of stubble on his face that looked like dirt under poor lighting. But his most obvious feature were his arms, or rather his lack of them. The man was missing both of his arms just past the shoulder, what was left of them were just a pair of short stumps. A peculiar trait, given he wasn’t in his mortal shell at the given moment. Yet, despite the lack of limbs and their role in maintaining one’s balance, he walked with a confident strut and a wide grin on his face. He often would face down spirits without a hint of fear. The name on his jacket, a loose oen designed to be taken on and off with minimal effort, with or without arms, read Timbers.

The other man that stood with him was a large man of notable height, well over 6 feet tall, just below 7 feet tall. Some would call his body type, for lack of a better descriptor, fat or chubby. His build was the exact opposite of his short and skinny friend. While his height could come off as threatening, his expression was soft and stoic, all kept together by his large, “Santa Claus” beard.

Two men on opposite ends of the spectrum, a short thin man with no arms and a large silent man with arms, they wandered the streets when no one else would. To start off the day, the skinny man, Timbers, took a running start and hopped up on the roof of a nearby car; from the looks of it, the thing was left in a haste. Out from under the bottom of the car, a few whispy spirits fled to parts unknown. Timbers moved with grace and fluidity. Back home and even when out, he used his legs and feet for everything he could manage. He wasn’t going to let the lack of them slow him down, figuratively and literally. Timbers scanned the horizon, looking for something. Something of importance to their little excursion; the location of the Light that wandered the city at night. Both him and his friend knew that the Light was bad news and the first thing to do when going out was finding where it was. Then, in an excited voice, with some vague hints of North European heritage, Timbers shouted to his friend. “Eh! Toby! Looks like the old bird is on the other side of town, near the border from the looks of things… If my eyes ain’t fooling me.” He said, moving to a sitting position, still on the car’s roof. “Guess that means she won’t be bugging us tonight? Eh?!” He had a knack for this kind of thing. He had only been wrong once or twice.

Toby, while he trusted his friend, was the more civil of the two and with a silent gesture, motioned for his friend to get off of the stranger’s car; it wasn’t likely that Toby, in his ethereal state, could damage the car, it was still not proper etiquette. Cars were rare in the town of November. More of a status symbol than a means of transporation. As for Timbers, it was safe to say that he didn’t care what some stranger though.

“Ah come on…” Timbers said as he hopped off of the car anyways, still grinning his confident smile, the older man’s annoyance was apparent. “You have to give me points for getting up on it? Plus I had to find a good spot to find that shining freak. You can’t spot an angel without stepping on a few cars, that’s how the saying goes, right?”

While annoyed, he knew everything he said was in jest, Toby on sighed and nodded; he was old enough to be his father, so he had gotten use to him acting like a child. But, it was all in the past at this point. As the two of them were thrillseekers, they lived in the present and looked on to the future. They had to find something of interest to entertain themselves. There was so much to choose from. One such area crossed Timber’s mind; a small grassy area with a well in the center of it. Said grassy spot was no bigger than someone’s backyard or the parking lot of a small store, but it was always a gathering spot for all kinds of weird spirits (and people).

Timbers, as always, lead on. He was the quicker and frankly in shape of the two. But, nevertheless, Toby kept up despite his large size. “Come on, Baldy, don’t you die on me as soon as we start.” Timbers slowed down, but not for Toby to catch up. Where was that park… It was always in the same place despite the way things changed around here. Even as places disappeared and were brought from the ground up, it remained. “You have an idea of where it is? I kind of forget. You’re better at directions than I am.” Timbers said in a subdued tone, rare for him.

In response to his question, Toby hummed, his hand to his chin, stroking his beard. Then, after a very short moment of thought, Toby pointed westward, northwest to be more specific. From his years of knowing the mute, Timbers had gotten use to his lack of speech. Thankfully, the large man was good at directions.

“Right then, guess we can’t waste anymore time. Thankfully, I trust your sense of direction. Ghosts? Don’t trust them.” With those few words, that was enough pondering from the no armed man and his mute friend. Their destination, this well, in all its anachronistic glory, even as it remained unchanged for all these years, was always their spot to go to when they had no other plans during the night. It was a place surrounded by several different stories as to what it could be or why it was such a hotspot for the dead. Stories of people long ago dying within it, the deep confines of the well the perfect place to hide bodies. Weirder stories about how it lead directly to hell. But, at the end of the day, only the dead knew the final verdict. Sometimes there would be someone sitting on it, such as the odd ghost with a bag over his head. Sometimes he would rise out of the gravel and sand that filled the well, body covered in the sediment. Timbers often wondered why a ghost would wear a mask and why he would draw eyes over it, as if to substitute a face.

But soon, the two made it to the well, Timbers already looked around for something interesting. Many spirits had already gathered and stared at the two as they entered the area. They had no distinguishable features. Just a few hazy human shaped spirits with two black dots for eyes. Incredibly small too. Each one of the spirits were about the size of a toddler. Most of the time, ghosts had their own unique appearance and noticeable personality. But these small spirits didn’t have this distinction. For ease of differentiating them from the other ghosts, the two thrillseekers referred to this type of spirit as “Wisps.” Timbers didn’t understand why these guys all looked the same while other ghosts looked unique, but Toby had a theory, that they were the ghosts slowly losing their grip on this world and moving on to the next. Something like that. But, being a theory, it had no answer. For all the two of them knew, it could just be a generic form that just looked like that or maybe they just didn’t want a unique form.

However, among the wispy white ghosts, one of them stood out. Their they stood, clad in pearl white armor, like he was straight out of a fantasy novel; at least they thought they were a he, you couldn’t really tell under the helmet and breastplate. They stared up at the night sky, locked in a trance. Timbers was tempted to go and bother him, knock him out of his trance, but that didn’t sound like such a good idea when the ghost was carrying a large blade rested on his shoulder. Despite this hesitation, Timber’s wasn’t afraid to speak out loud. “So what’s up with the renaissance member? Timbers chuckled, nudging his larger, mute companion with his stump of an arm.

Toby only shrugged, staying where he was.

With a sigh, followed by a shrug, Timbers put it upon himself to step forward until he was almost shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly knight. While he told himself to not touch him or bother him, he saw nothing wrong in talking to him; not like he could die in his current state. There were ghosts that could harm you, yes, but not in a physical manner. It were the ghosts who could inflict mental anguish that were the ones to worry about. That and the infamous light that roamed the town. Timbers joined the ghost in staring up at the sky, staring up for what felt like a bit too long. Soon, he spoke up, looking to the armored ghost. “What’re staring at?”

Timbers was only met with an eerily long pause, followed by the knight pointing up at the sky, his armor clanked with each small motion. He pointed up at the manta ray like spirit that flew about the sky. Its massive size eclipsed any building it flew over, even blotting out moonlight. Just now, it happened to be directly over head; now, the only light was from the wisps and the knight’s armor. In a distorted voice, due to his helmet, the knight spoke up. Distorted, yes, but at the same time tearful and somber. “Do you feel his pain? He’s stirring in his sleep… My king…”

To no surprise, to Toby and Timbers, the spirits loved their cryptic bullshit. Timbers, with no idea how to respond to such a question, replied anyways, “Who? The manta?”

The knight acted like he didn’t even hear Timbers, “Why do you hurt Slave King? Are we not your children? Are we not your pride and joy?” As the manta began to fly away, going to other parts of the town, the knight walked in its direction. Once it was a good distance away, the knight bowed his head. Even with his face obscured, his sadness was apparent. “…Sleepwalkers?” He said, finally acknowledging Toby and Timbers, “…Leave us be… Your presence only attracts the Light.” The armored ghost once again turned away, and slowly began to walk in the general direction of the manta ray as it flew away, making a long and steady journey.

With a shrug, Toby walked up to Timbers. It was best that they left the knight be. He wouldn’t argue that they did attract the so called Light. It wasn’t the first time they heard those words. Sleepwalker, Slave King, Light… They long ago figured out that Sleepwalker refers to people like them who could leave their bodies; commonly referred to as Astral Projection by the popular media. The Light, if it wasn’t obvious enough, was the bright light that patrolled the town. They had no idea what would happen if it caught you, but everyone was afraid to it or spoke of it with displeasure. So it was best that they avoided it light their unlife depended on it.

But the Slave King, was something that continued to elude them. Someone that was held in high respect by the other ghosts. Someone who was most often associated with his pain. Yet no one seemed to ever explain who he was.

But there was no point of thinking on it too hard. They weren’t, after all, detectives. They were here for thrills.

Timbers shook his head and looked over to his friend, “Come on, this is boring, I think I know a better place.” He said, as he swiveled on his feet to face the exit. His stride would soon be cut off, by Toby putting a hand to his companion’s chest. With a shush, Toby pointed up to the roof just across the field from them. There, standing at the edge, was a young girl. As soon as her presence was apparent, the wisps in the area fled, leaving on Toby, Timbers, and the mystery girl.

Illuminated in the moonlight, she was clad in a dirty tank top and torn jeans, very thin as well. But, her distinctive feature, was the large realistic rabbit mask that she wore. The so called watchdog of the streets. The infamous March Hare. While the Light was talked about with distaste and fear, there was one other who had such a status. Her.

She stayed there, up on the roof, while Toby and Timbers patiently waited for her to move on. If they were lucky, she would move on and find someone else to hunt. If they were even luckier, they weren’t on her list. If she decided to chance them… Well their only option was to run. Their first run in with her, they were taught that despite her unhealthily skinny appearance, she was quite strong; it was that night that she hit Toby hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

But, soon, the March Hare jumped from the roof, forward, in the direction of Toby and Timbers. It wasn’t time to think about if she was chasing after them or someone else she saw. It was time to run. Timbers, on his dexterous legs, was in the lead, with his large companion following just behind him. Despite their weightlessness when outside of their body, Toby was always a bit slower than Timbers. Either was because he was use to being the one trailing behind due to his weight in the physical world, or to stay behind and protect Timbers in the event that the March Hare caught up. Usually it was a bad idea to run during these nights, as it prompted someone to chase you. But, that did not matter. They had to run from her. Distance themselves from that woman. For the only fate of those who were singled out by her was, as the ghosts put it, to be taken to the light for “judgement.”

For a brief moment, Toby thought about the armored ghost. Maybe he was her target. If he knew anything about him, he would pity him being her target. The thought of him didn’t even cross Timbers’ mind. Thankfully for them, they knew these streets well. What places could be used as shortcuts, what places remained consistent despite all the changes made to the town, what paths were shorter than others. A pain to have to relearn some locations… That came with the mysterious changes that happened to the town, of course.

“Hey, Baldy?” Timbers said, slowing down, checking behind him, as did Toby. “You think we lost her?”

Toby caught up with his armless companion, and looked down the street. They weren’t sure how long they were running, probably just under a minute? Not too long, just enough to hopefully give the March Hair another target.

Looks like all their running had lead them to a small street corner. An alley where people would dump their trash or where teenagers would smoke. This spot was close to another park, that was often used as a gathering spot. Timbers would suggest going over there, but they had to lay low for now. Not going to risk being chased by that nasty rabbit bitch again, as Timbers would put it.

But, before they could start making plans again, someone or something landed besides the two of them, shocking them both. If they were in their bodies, they probably would have a heart attack.

But, this was no March Hare, nor was it even a ghost. Thin like the March Hare, yes, but barely old enough to be called a teenager. Clad in a blue hospital regulation pants and shirt, sporting a short tomboyish haircut, was a young girl.

April stood up from her fall, grunting but unharmed. Looks like her theory on whether or not she could be hurt proved true… Next time she might want to test it out in a less dangerous way. But, now, she stared up at the two tall men staring back down at her, just as confused and shocked.

“Uh… Hi…” April said with a sheepish smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember when I said I'd post this in September?  
Yeah... I had a long hiatus. Had a October job. Grew listless in November (ironically)  
But, now I feel back in the saddle. Ready to start posting chapters once more.  
I don't know who reads this but I am happy to present to you the latest chapter of Nightmares Nowhere Never


	12. Act of Soul: June Journey

Elsewhere, June searched the city, with a singular objective in mind. She followed the light that passed through the streets and alleyways, in order to find the Guardian Angel that came to her that faithful night. She knew that she had to find it tonight; people kept saying that it was going to be a long night so she knew this was her best chance. It was only recently that she had become so persistent in finding it. The spirits of the town didn’t frighten her. Why else would she so bravely go out at night? Even the ones that looked vicious were all bark and no bite in the end.

Perhaps she would invite Jules sometime. He was a guy who looked like he could use some extra bravery in his life.

That being said, the Angel wasn’t the only thing on her mind as of late. There was that strange woman that she had met before the sun vanished. There was the fact that she seemed so familiar in a way that June couldn’t quite place. Not like an old friend or a sibling but something far greater that June could not put down in words. She called herself the March Hare didn’t she?

With her lucky guitar strapped to her back and her usual rhythm in her step, she made it to the spot where she was sure she last saw the light. She had spent the past week tracing where it went, trying to find a pattern to its movement, only to conclude that it was random or there was something else to its movements than an ordinary patrol. So, she learned to keep a close eye on where it would go, its highly visible glow always gave away its location, allowing June to stay on the trail. Yet, even with careful planning and high spirits, not all plans came to success.

In other words, there was no sign of the angel.

In its place was a large, grotesque spirit. A hulking headless humanoid, several times larger than June. Its nude, bloated body folding in on itself, like a slightly deflated balloon. Its long, mangled arms, looked easily suited for tearing a person as June apart with minimal effort. Yet, it showed no signs of Hostility, even as June got within arms reach, to inspect its strange body… Immediately, June felt as though something was wrong with it. Its body was shimmering. Its gray skin flickered with a bright white light, as if there were bulbs beneath its ghostly flesh. It paced back and forth on its feet, with a light groaning sound coming from the hole where its head use to be. Just standing there in one place but unable to stay still.

“Dammit…” June grumbled, as she adjusted her hat, “You’re not the Angel.” She looked off to the distance, hoping to locate the angel’s light once again, then looked back to the monster. “…Did you see it…?” She asked, not expecting an answer, mostly talking out loud to herself.

Of course there was no answer.

That light had to mean something, June told herself. It was the same light that the angel gave off. An intense, sparkly white light. Inside their rooms, people in the apartment building that overlooked the pair, could only stare and watch as this strange girl stood in front of the giant spirit without a hint of fear. They all closed their curtains, as the light within the spirit began to glow even brighter.

The spirit flashed brightly, the light coursing through its body going from a bright shimmer to a blinding flash that took June off guard, who gasped in shock at the sudden burst. She even was forced to shield her eyes with the visor of her hat to keep herself from going blind; even just looking at it for a split second and she was seeing spots on her eyelids. Then, in a bellowing voice, the deformed ghost spoke, two simple words:

_“_ _So bright…”_

Then, in one last burst of light, the ghost disappeared. All that was left in its place were small moots of light, which fell to the ground like ashes after a raging fire. Then nothing…

The young  musician almost fell backwards.  More bewildered, she took a few steps towards the spot where the ghost once stood. That was certainly new. “Well… That’s one way to give me a sign.” She said, as she shook her head. Her mood had yet to be ruined by her lack of success. “Alright, I’ll keep looking, but I’ll see you soon, Angel…” Before June could get ready to move out and start her search over though, a veil of mist began to form o ver the area, thick enough that she could no longer see a block ahead. “Hm…” Soon, from the mist, she heard a series of voices, murmuring from the darkness, all accompanied by a loud, approaching thumping noise.

“A human…?”

“A sleepwalker from the looks of it.”

“We’re getting more and more of them every day, it seems.”

“I think I’ve seen her before…”

June looked over her shoulder, to see a group of various ghosts emerge from the mist, several spirits of all shapes and sizes. In the middl e of them, was a large toothy beast, vaguely  resembling a rhinoceros , with a large mouth full of large, flat, grinding teeth. There, riding on its back, was a dwarf-like man, clad in regal robes, fit only for a monarch of old, his long grin far too large for his small face. His  posse of ghosts came in all colors of scary and strange, from a man that appeared to be split down the middle and a woman covered in  eyes . W ith a long smoking pipe, as long as he was tall, t he dwarf looked down from his mount, and blew a large amount of smoke in her direction; it tasted strangely sweet. “Salutations, Sleepwalker,” He said through an unmoving mouth of jagged yellow teeth. “I’m Decem.”

June, still confused by the ghost’s disappearing act, stared up at Decem. The dwarf raised a brow, curious as to why this girl wasn’t screaming in fear; that was the usual reaction to witnessing him and his group of followers. How could he derive joy from someone who didn’t show him even a hint of fear? After a moment’s pause, June removed her hat, fanning away the smoke that had been rudely blown in her face. Again, much to Decem’s annoyance, she had a smile on her face. “Well, uh, please to meet you Decem…” 

What an over the top introduction for someone with such a simple name.

“But I’m going to get going now.” June said, already leaving, only to stop as she realized that they group was no longer in front of her but all around her. In the short few seconds that they had taken to arrive, they had already surrounded her… “Do you want something?” June said, looking back to Decem, this time annoyed.

Decem’s riding animal grunted and scrapped its hooves against the ground, the tips of its nails phasing through the ground. The large  rectangular teeth that took up the entirety of its head clacked, only for it to calm down to an acceptable (but  still seething)  level  once the dwarf smacked it with his pipe. “Pinky, calm down…” Decem put his pipe back in his mouth and grinned, “Forgive me, lovely, but she only gets angry around humans.” Pinky, as they were called, began to move forward towards June,  as if to provoke her. “Which brings me to my question: What’s a human doing out on this night? A night when our so called guardian is more and more active ?”

Such a straight forward question. June would’ve appreciated him not using the word human as if it was some insult  “ I want to see the ang e l, as she came to me nights ago” June replied, plain and simple. “Do you know where to find her q uickest? …See? I can ask questions too.”

In response,  before Decem could retort, one of the ghosts stepped forward from the crowd that had surrounded Decem and June. A somewhat normal looking ghost, resembling a medieval knight, clad in pearl white armor resembling stone;  June felt that it made him look like a walking chess piece. “N o, there is something wrong with her. She’s not a sleepwalker. There is…  Something different about her than the others.” Decem looked over to the knight, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and spite over the interruption. Meanwhile, the knight and June stared at each other for a long time, as she waiting for the other to say something. June waited for him to continue on and give more insight. The knight waited for June to confirm his suspicions in one way or the other. But, before either could happen, the knight shook his head, “Forgive me, Decem… For my intrusion.”

Decem prepared to speak again, only to be interrupted once more, this time by a bloated ghost, resembling a drowned corpse, over his speech the dwarf was practically seething with anger. “Gentlemen.” The bloated ghost said in a tired voice, “As much as this conversation intrigues me, we shouldn’t stay here much longer.” They said as they pointed to the horizon. Above the rooftops of November, rays of white light began to shine once more, “The old bird is on our trail.”

All it took were those few words for the crowd of ghosts to depart. Hissing, Decem looked to the knight, “Kaiser!” It wasn’t long before the only people left were June, Decem and his mount, and Kaiser the knightly ghost. “Take the girl, we’re going to need her” 

June was too busy reacting in the oppo site fashion to any of the ghosts, a wide smile on her face, as she got ready to run off, only to be grabbed roughly on the shoulder by the knight. His grip was strong and his body was smooth and hard.  There was little use in trying to fight against hi m, she might’ve been a tall girl, she was incredibly light, possibly malnourished. In one swoop, Kaiser tossed June ove r his shoulder and began moving against June’s protests. “Hey! Let go of me! I came here to see her! The guardian angel, you idiot!” June shouted, the smile gone from her face for once. “Silence,” Kaiser said, as she too followed Decem, who was leaving the area through the shroud of mist. As they passed through, June could no longer see where she was going, no longer able to get a reference to where they could possibly be headed. “Come with us. Ringleader Decem has taken a great interest in your type, you shall respect what he has to show you.”

“ But the angel!” June shouted again.

“Is not what you think it is.” Kaiser replied back, “ I don’t know what you are. Sleepwalker, human, or other , but you are c oming with us whether you want to or not.” Then, in a slightly less rough tone, the knight sighed, the sigh echoed through his mask, “Just wait and see, all will be explained in time.”

June was at least grateful that her guitar wasn’t being crushed by the strong grip. She could no longer struggle… Besides, if she fell here, she had no idea where she would end up. The only thing that was crushed was her pride to be manhandled like this.  Then, just as the mist was at its most opaque, it cleared up, and June found herself in an entirely new location, to be set down on the ground with a surprising degree of gentleness by Kaiser. More annoyed and ruff led than in pain, June looked around her new location… It was a wide open room, sporting several pillars that were scattered about evenly.  A curved ceiling that caused any loud sounds to echo and reverberate. A thin veil of water on the ground, that reached only up to the bottoms of June’s shoes. The only light in the room was from the large amount of different colored ghosts that glowed in the dark, many of them bright enough to function as  lamps on their own. “It’s… One of these… ” June said, as she look ed around.  Had this place been underneath the town for all these years and she didn’t even know about it?

“ Cistern.” Kaiser said as he walked in the direction of his boss, who had taken his place in the center of the room. B efore he could leave, he received a kick to the back of his thigh by June, still acting stubborn as ever, “Hey!” June demanded, “You better keep your promise or I’m going right back out there!”

Silently, Kaiser stared down at her and crossed his arms, like a teacher looking down upon a particularly bratty student.

After being carried here against her will, then put down like a child, and expected to just sit and wait, it was safe to say that June was not in the best of moods right about now. “Don’t give me any vague garbage! First my favorite pawn shop disappears and now I’m taken… To this place.” She said, motioning around herself, more and more of the ghosts listened in on the conversation. Taking a deep breath, June lowered her voice, still angry, but not shouting. “The angel came to me weeks ago and I have to see her again.”

Slowly, Kaiser lowered his arms, the ghosts who were eavesdropping on the conversation and even a few who were not, looked over to June, now they began to whisper amongst themselves. Some in confusion, others in fear, others sounding like they took it as a jest. Kaiser, for someone whose face was constantly concealed, looked the most bewildered out of all of them, “Are you being serious…?”

More and more whispers were heard from the crowd.

“She remembers the changes? But Kaiser said she isn’t a Sleep walker.”

“W hat is she?  Did she really meet with the angel? ”

“Is she meant to be here?”

All the whispers were interrupted by the stamping of Decem’s beast slamming its hooves to the ground, making a large splash and  letting out a gutteral growl. . Decem, in his scratchy, scathing voice, commanded the group. “Silence! All of you!” A command, that despite his obnoxious voice, was met with complete approval by everyone in the cis tern, even June. Everyone kept their eyes either on Decem or on June. The tension could be felt even by the most dim-witted. Decem smoked on his pipe and sighed, “Y’all want answers? Eh? Ai… I got em, but first…”  He said, getting off from his mount.  “Allow me to formally introduce myself. “You know my name is Decem, but you don’t know who I am.” Proudly, he put a hand over his chest. “You can say I’m the leader of these lot.  The head honcho as you humans put it. So, in other words, if answers are what you are looking for, then look no further than the oldest of the dead of this ro tten town! The one  to go longest under the reign of the angel’s light!” Slowly, Decem pointed his pipe at June, the sweet smelling smoke blowing out from his mouth. “Sit tight deary. More of you are being brought here… And for those who want answers, we require help in return. The help of… People. Like. You.”

With a hearty smack of his pipe against the ground, Decem laughed. His presence riling up the ghosts in the room into a cheer.  Pinky roared and stomped her hooves, a loud cacophonous roar that was heard throughout the cistern and ou t into the town. Kaiser stayed by June’s side, looking down on her, the only two people in the room not riled up.

All the noise below reached the trio above. April, Toby, and Timbers, the latter two confused by the sudden arrival of the young girl and all three of them even more confused by the sudde n ground shaking cacophony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another June chapter  
This one gives a bit more on the presence of the light. A healthy bit of foreshadowing for things to come. A lot more mystery. Also looks like the knight from earlier is alright. Why he is working for this Decem guy? Who knows... We'll have to see.  
For anyone who might read this, thank you for being patient with me and my procrastination.


End file.
